


Amidst the Scent of Roasted Turkey

by Queenbookerly



Series: Where the Carnival Glows Bright (You May Just Find a New Home) [3]
Category: Brawl Stars (Video Game)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jacky (Brawl Stars) Swears a Lot, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Sensory Overload, Thanksgiving, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenbookerly/pseuds/Queenbookerly
Summary: When you join a family for thanksgiving for the first time, you might feel ostracized.When you witness someone having a panic attack, you'll probably feel sympathetic.When you finally find a home, despite all your hardships, you're gonna feel found.
Relationships: Brock (Brawl Stars)/Amber (Brawl Stars), El Primo (Brawl Stars)/Rosa (Brawl Stars)
Series: Where the Carnival Glows Bright (You May Just Find a New Home) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083455
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Amidst the Scent of Roasted Turkey

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: Panic attack, sensory overload, swearing.

Thanksgiving is, by far, the least touristy holiday of the year. People want to spend time being grateful with their families, not spending hundreds of dollars on carnival rides in a place that smells like a heart attack at the age of forty. Places like Disney Land, however, were still popular enough. The attractions were all still open and busy, and families who couldn't be bothered to visit distant relatives were instead gallivanting with the likes of Mickey and Elsa.

Brawl Stars, a brawler-centric amusement park in the center of Brawltopia, was practically a ghost town.

The Park had never gotten more than a thousand visitors on Thanksgiving, so many non-fighter employees took the day off. The workers who elected to stay were mostly the fighters themselves and any close family who worked at the park, along with those who didn't have family to go home to or a place to stay. They took over all duties for the day, with Bull and any restaurant staff he could scrounge up keeping the various eateries across the park open, Shelly, Colt, and a handful of others working security, and everyone else trading off ticket sales for the few events taking place that day. They usually only ran one of each mode before closing up around six.

After closing, anybody not leaving the park to go celebrate with family elsewhere gathered into small clumps to celebrate thanksgiving in their own ways. Many of the Brawlers would have a light dinner with immediate relatives before joining the other brawlers in a large workshop deep in the heart of Pam's Garage.

"I'm gonna do a flip!"

"Not right next to the stove you aren't!"

"Lee, you can hardly do a somersault."

The brawlers were all spread out across a garage partially converted into a living area, talking and laughing. Colt was perched on the back of a couch, recounting his latest showdown match to an overly-excited Tick and a few others who were mostly bored. Shelly was sitting right next to her boyfriend, snickering at him as he spoke. Jessie was at the table, talking with her mom and Bo about her latest invention, Brock's second gadget, Rocket Fuel. The blue-haired sharpshooter was standing directly behind her, looking more nervous by the second. Rosa was sitting by the stove with Sandy, watching to make sure a certain chameleon didn't get his foot burned off trying to do a flip.

Primo and Poco walked into the room, each holding one of Amber's hands. The Flame brawler was being dragged behind them, trying to dig her heels into the ground. A mostly unsuccessful endeavor, seeing as the floor was linoleum and very slippery.

"Guys, seriously! I don't want to invade your thing! I just got here a month ago."

"Nonsense! You're great and we love having you here! So, you stay for thanksgiving dinner," Poco exclaimed. Amber pulled her hand out of his and began to rub her wrist.

"If you insist," she said with a small smile.

"Bea, dear, come help me with this jello salad thing!" Rosa shouted from the stove. Amber watched as a small blur of yellow zipped by. With that, she started to notice the buzz of excitement and comradery that filled the room. Primo had made his way to Rosa's side almost as soon as he had walked in, and was now holding a boy in an unbuttoned green flannel (Liam, she thought, or something like that.) by his collar. Emz had dragged Poco over to a different couch, and the two were chatting about whatever was on her phone.

Which left Amber standing stunned in the middle of the room.

She decided if she was going to be here, she couldn't just look like an idiot the entire time, so she walked over to where the Junker family was sitting with… Mo? Mo. At least, she thought it was Mo. Before she could reach her destination, though, someone yelled at her.

"Hey! Matchstick! Com'ere for a second!" Amber gulped and turned toward the girl who had shouted. It was the loud Demo girl whose name she could never remember. Jamie, maybe? That sounded right. She crept over and waved bashfully.

"Hey, Jamie."

"Jacky," she corrected gruffly as she pulled Amber over to her little group, which consisted of Max, Bull, and Bibi. Jacky pushed her arms down so they were straight at her sides, then walked behind her. A second later, Amber felt a cold strip of something across the back of her shoulders.

"See this? Fourteen and 10/16 inches. 37.2 mother fucking centimeters. How wide is a gap where one block could be placed, Max?" Max, who Amber had previously thought was named May, sighed.

"A foot." Jacky threw her hands up.

"One foot. One single, goddamned, fucking foot. If Ghost Pepper over here can't fit through there, how is my drill gonna get through?" Amber was now thoroughly confused. She didn't even know who "Ghost Pepper" was; how was she supposed to follow the conversation?

She started looking around the room in a semi-panic, trying to find someone to come save her. During her panic, she met Bibi's eyes. The softball player gestured toward a different side of the room; it seemed like she was pointing Amber towards where Jessie was. Amber smiled gratefully and made her escape, speed walking towards the young mechanic.

Jessie was still talking to her mom and Mo, but two others had joined the conversation: Mr. P and an elderly gentleman whose name escaped her at the moment. Amber sat down quietly at the end of the table, across from Jessie.

"And he would be able to make snow cones!" Jessie exclaimed, scribbling something else in her sketchbook. The elderly man (he had a weather word for a name but she couldn't remember what it was) sighed, leaning on the table.

"So long as he's nice, it doesn't matter to me."

"I'm nice!" Mr. P exclaimed, his face growing a bit red beneath his feathers. Amber had heard his true voice before, but she still marveled at how clear it was when he wasn't wearing his costume. The fluffy, tiny feathers that made up his "hair" and dusted his cheeks and forehead all puffed out a bit, as a sort of natural response to his anger. He looked around for someone to back him up, and he landed on Amber. "Amber, I'm nice, aren't I?" Amber straightened up and started fiddling with the edge of her skirt.

"Um, yeah, but, you're... kind of loud? Which I don't mind, and you let me sleep at your Hotel for free, so, yeah, you're pretty nice." Everyone at the table stared at her with bovine expressions before Mr. P cleared his throat and addressed her.

"Amber, dear, that is basic human decency. You need a place to stay while you get on your feet in a new place, I lend you a room. That isn't niceness, It's common sense. Besides, You being new brings more people to the park, which brings more people to the hotel. you can't attract visitors if you look exhausted from sleeping on the streets, now can you?"

The man with a weather name (Tempest? Storm?) kicked his boss in the shin under the table. The penguin immediately started cursing up a storm, which Amber saw as an opportunity to walk away before she could cause more problems. Her escape would have been flawless had Jessie not grabbed her arm as she walked by.

"Amber, reaaaally really quick question," she said, talking a mile per minute as she tapped her pencil against her chin. "What should we name this guy? He would be the newest brawler, but he would also work with Mr. P and make snow cones." Amber stared blankly at the small sketch in the corner of the page. She couldn't understand the tech talk scrawled across the rest of the blueprint, but the drawing of the finished product in the corner sparked inspiration.

"Lou, maybe?" She asked nervously. Jessie's eyes lit up.

"Yeah! Lou! Thanks Amber!" But the flame brawler was already gone, diving back into the fray to find somewhere she belonged.

She dove in and out of conversations, never staying long enough to truly join them. The more she walked around, the more panicked she became. Voices swirled around her head, increasing in volume as time went on. The low-watt lights hanging from the ceiling seemed to be getting brighter and brighter, until each one was a miniature, blinding sun. Suddenly, everything was too much. The swirling voices began to claw at her ears, and the lights stabbed her eyes. The smell of turkey suffocated her. All she could think was that it needed to stop. She needed to leave. She spun about, trying to avoid looking at any light sources. Finally, she saw the door, and a clear path to it.

Most of the room turned to look at her as she let out a strangled cry, but she didn't seem to notice their attention or the noise she made. The Brawlers watched in confusion and slight fear as she bolted out the door in a whirlwind of sparks.

The second she got out the door, she picked up the pace. She ran over to a different garage, one that was dead silent and had the lights off. She tested the door and, upon seeing that it was open, went inside. She slammed her back against the wall and slid down, putting her hands over her ears and burying her face between her knees. She began to cry silently, her shoulders heaving against the cold metal at her back.

The brawlers were in an uproar. Everyone was trying to figure out what was going on, but nobody quite knew. They were all shouting to each other, but no one could hear individual voices above the din. The room was in chaos.

Suddenly, a wave of bright red music notes flashed through the warehouse, cutting off nearly all of the brawlers. A few of them shivered as the miniscule music notes dug themselves into the skin of their victims, and the others were shocked by the attack. All of them turned towards the source of the attack, where Poco was breathing hard and holding his guitar.

"What the hell did you idiots do?" The brawlers looked at each other nervously, no one wanting to answer for lack of knowledge. "She was so fucking nervous about tonight, because she thought all of you would hate her! So, I ask again: What. The hell. Did you do?" Bibi spoke up from the back.

"Jacky was yelling at her."

"I was yelling at Max about her fucking block spacing, Bubblegum! Amber left halfway through!" Jacky shouted in retort. Jessie raised her hand from the table, which she was standing on to avoid the chaos of a moment earlier.

"We were talking about Lou, the new brawler, and Mr. P kind of put her on the spot, but she just seemed nervous then. Not like-" she gestured to the door, which was partially scorched- "that."

Bea stood off to one side with Rosa and Brock, trying to describe how Amber was acting just before she left.

"And it was weird. She was just all over the place. She seemed… I don't know."

"Like you last year at Christmas?" Brock asked. Bea nodded solemnly and Rosa and Brock shared a look. The young entomologist had had trouble trying to adjust last year when she came over from Britain, and the siblings had helped her through a fair amount of panic attacks.

"Bloody hell!" Rosa exclaimed suddenly.

"What's up Rose?"

"What's wrong doctor?"

Rosa had her head leaned back and her hands buried deep in her hair.

"She's probably having a bloody panic attack!" Bea let out a little squeak and looked like she was about to cry, and Brock began bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"We gotta find her!" the dancer made his way to the door, with the scientists close behind. The trio walked out the door, with Bea snagging the thin sweater Amber had brought in lieu of a coat.

The trio scanned the surrounding area, looking for places Amber might have run off to. It was only seconds before Rosa spotted the door to a different garage cracked open.

"Over there!" They rushed over to the open garage and stepped inside, trying to ignore the piles of robot parts scattered across the room.

"Amber?"

"You in here, kid?" Brock and Bea called out at the same time. They were answered with a whimper from behind them. All three of them let out a gasp when they saw Amber. The girl was shivering, either from the chill of the wall or from the sensory overload, and she was digging her nails into her ears so hard that they could see pinpricks of blood.

Bea quickly shoved two knuckles in her mouth to prevent herself from crying and handed the sweater off to Brock, who tip-toed over and draped it around Amber's shoulders before sitting down next to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. Rosa sat down next, pulling the young firebreather into her side. Before Brock could adjust, Bea wedged herself between him and Amber, gently guiding the girl's hands off her ears and replacing them with a pair of work ear muffs that she must have found on a bench somewhere. She then made herself comfy against the newest brawler, laughing quietly as her tight curls were pushed in all different directions by Amber's elbow.

Nobody said anything, but the three of them smiled when Amber relaxed just a bit and let her arms fall from her head.

They waited until Amber took off the ear muffs to talk to her about what had happened.

"Alright, spill," Brock said, leaning his head against the wall and looking at Amber.

"What do you mean?"

"There's almost always a primary cause to these things, Amber. It's hardly ever just getting overwhelmed by the noise," Bea remarked. Amber slumped where she sat.

"I feel so much like I don't belong, and like I'm invading on some private thing."

"You know, Bea went through this when she started out," Rosa remarked, giving Bea a look.

"Mmhmm! I was a nervous wreck! And then there was the party on Christmas Eve, which just didn't help anything at all!" Brock groaned at the memory.

"I think you mean the nightmare before Christmas. Jesus, if you weren't crying, someone else was. I swear, Pam spiked the eggnog." Amber giggled at the thought of Pam putting anything stronger than wine in her daughter's reach. Bea shifted so that she wasn't burrowing into Amber's side.

"Yeah, we deal with anxiety all the time. No need to be frightened!" Amber sighed and curled back in on herself.

"I just… I feel so out of the loop. Hell, just look at me!" She gestured to herself. "I'm wearing this stupid, dysfunctional shirt and a skirt I bought _specifically for this occasion_ , and you guys are mostly wear t-shirts and jeans. Nobody told me this was supposed to be informal!"

"It's not supposed to be anything, but none of us care enough to get dressed up. And you look fabulous in a backless shirt," Rosa interrupted. Amber, however, ignored her, launching herself away from the wall and beginning to pace.

"I try to be nice but I have no clue what I'm doing! Jacky is so flipping confusing, I can't remember a single goddamn name to save my life, and I'm pretty sure everyone here just... just wants me to go away!"

"You are so bleeding wrong it hurts."

"Dude, what?"

"We want you to be here! I promise!" The three chorused. Amber turned towards them to continue her rant.

"I'm not like you guys. I'm fucked up! I'm carrying so much mental shit around everywhere I go, and all it does is make people hate me. It's a wonder Shelly hasn't fired me already! You guys are all so cool and collected and-" she sat down on a boss robot's head- "I'm not."

Brock walked over to Amber and jumped up on to the head.

"Remember how we were talking about the Christmas party last year?" Amber nodded. "Well, a lot of the reason it was such a disaster is because there was a lot of mental stuff going on for everybody." Brock leaned back and put his hands behind him. "We aren't all perfect and cool all the time, and it's okay if you aren't either. We all try our best, and we all help each other out. Nobody here wants anyone to leave, because we're family." He took Amber's hand in his own, intertwining their fingers. "Nobody wants you to go anywhere." Brock smiled, and Amber felt her face heat up. It could have been the blush, or it could have been the fact that with Brock's words, Amber's hair had caught on fire.

As Brock and Amber extinguished the fire, Bea and Rosa were talking out of earshot.

"So... this is interesting," Bea began.

"I'll bet you we only have three weeks before they get together."

"Doctor, we shouldn't bet on people's relationships, especially not your brother's!" Bea scolded before turning back towards Amber and Brock. "That being said, I'd put £20 on them taking until Christmas. Your brother is rather dense, probably doesn't even realize what he's doing to the poor girl."

"Deal."

**Time skip brought to you by shamelessly ripping off Todoroki**

Amber returning to the main warehouse was like the prodigal son returning home. She was immediately swarmed by a good portion of the brawlers, while the rest went to interrogate Bea, Rosa, and Brock.

"Amber!" Pam ran up to her, parting the other like the Red Sea. Primo and Poco followed close behind her. "Are you okay?" The EMT pulled out a small pen light and began checking for signs of a concussion.

"Pam, I'm okay. I just freaked myself out a little, that's all." Pam quirked an eyebrow and put her hands on her hips. Amber grimaced. "I may have given myself a panic attack with severe social anxiety, leading to sensory overload?" she asked, not entirely comfortable with stating the fact outright. Pam's face softened. Gone was the medic and out came the mother as she wrapped Amber in a tight hug.

"If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I'm here hon," Pam whispered in her ear before releasing her. "That being said," she yelled to the crowd, "Jessie! Piper! Sandy! Bo! Dessert status?"

"That's his name! Bo!" Amber whispered under her breath, apparently loud enough for Poco to hear, if his snort was anything to go by.

"Yeah, Bo? like his, you know, Bow?" Amber smiled sheepishly.

"Forgot about that." Poco rolled his eyes as well as he could, considering two pinpricks of light served as his pupils. He then donned a worried look.

"Back to business." He took a deep breath. "Dios Mio, Amber don't scare us like that! We didn't know where you went, we didn't know what was wrong..." Primo put a hand on the skeleton's shoulder.

"What he means to say, amiga, is come talk to us next time. Or someone else. Don't just run off," he said sympathetically.

"Si, lo siento. I was just so freaked out and I panicked." Primo nodded, pulling Amber into a one-armed hug.

"I understand, I'm just trying to give you options. Now, let's go eat, si?"

"Si."

"Mind if I grab food with you guys?" Brock asked as he jogged over.

"Not at all!" Amber replied. Brock stepped into the make-shift buffet line right next to Amber, oblivious to the side eyes Poco and Primo were giving each other. After they got their food, Poco went to sit with Emz, and Primo left to go find Rosa, leaving Amber once again. She found she wasn't nearly as uncomfortable this time, though, thanks in part to the company of a certain sharpshooter.

"Hey Emz, do you know what's going on with Brock and Amber?" Poco asked. Emz looked up from her food and across the room at the chatting pair.

"No. Huh, that's weird. Brock went to find her when she ran out, right?"

"Si, along with Rosa and Bea."

"Then something may have developed then. Whatever it is, it's like, kind of unexpected." Emz squealed as she watched Brock take one of his bacon-wrapped pickles off of his plate and give it to Amber, who made a face as she ate it. "OMG, those two are like, so cute!"

Meanwhile, Primo was eating in comfortable silence, sitting between Bea and Rosa, who were both leaning on him. Nita was sitting on the floor, her head leaned against her girlfriend's knees.

"Rosa. About Brock. Do I need to threaten him? is he now Amber's-" he stopped to think for a moment- "Novio? What is novio in English?"

"Raphael, darling, I don't know Spanish. But if you mean boyfriend the answer is no." Primo nodded.

"Si! Boyfriend. Are you sure he is not her boyfriend?"

"Yes, we're sure, but it's practically inevitable." Bea said, busily stealing all of Primo's black olives off of his plate. "We have a bet, me and Rosa. £20 on whether it will take them three weeks or until Christmas to get together." Primo looked at Brock, at the way that he was looking at Amber as she talked about a routine she had been working on for the past few days. He looked at Amber, who smiled every time she looked at Brock to make sure he was still interested.

He pulled out his wallet.

"Forty pounds is roughly fifty five dollars, yes?" Both Rosa and Bea nodded. Primo pulled two fities and two fives out of his wallet. "Forty pounds for each of you says that they will be together by the end of the week."

"Free money for us then, dearest," Rosa quipped, offering a hand for her boyfriend to shake.

"I agree, though, I will not call you dearest. I have a girlfriend, you know," Bea replied, also extending a hand.

"You three are insane," Nita growled from the floor.

After dinner and dessert had been finished, the brawlers watched a movie, then sat and listened as Colt weaved another tale, this one surprisingly not about his latest fights. He wove tales of Brawlers who had struggled to get where they were today, and who had found a family. Some of the stories were told as if they were almost jokes, some were told in somber voices, surrounded by pale faces and shaking hands. All were told with the help of the brawler in question.

Amber listened to story after story, feeling more and more found as time went on. She listened to Bull recount what his Father had put him through, and how his life had turned around so quickly, with Colt helping him the entire way. She listened to Piper and Colt laugh through the tale about the blonde's trek to Brawltopia, and then Colt extended a hand to her.

She walked up to the front of the room and stood next to the grinning redhead. And together, they stumbled their way through her story. There were parts where she couldn't smile, and parts where she couldn't stop smiling. She glossed over parts she couldn't mention, and no one called her out for it. Somehow, that made everything so much easier to tell. When she finally sat down, getting comfy where she was sandwiched between Brock and Rico as Colt pulled Nita to her feet, she felt happier than she had in a very long time.

Here, amidst the scent of roasted turkey and surrounded by friends, she found a home.

**B-B-B-B-BONUS ROUND!**

It was close to midnight when Amber decided she needed to leave. Some of the Brawlers didn't have events until later the next day, but her first one, heist, was going to be at eight the next morning. She threw on her sweater and walked out the door for the second time that night, this time far less panicked. she had only gotten a little ways away from the warehouse when she heard Brock calling out to her.

"Hey, Amber! Wait up!" Amber turned around and smiled as she saw the dancer running towards her, flushed and out of breath. "Hey. Just thought I would walk you home," he said in between breaths.

Amber chuckled as she said, "That would be nice." She didn't bother to point out that home was a hotel halfway across the park from where Brock lived.

Once Brock had caught his breath, the two started walking. They strolled in comfortable silence, taking in the beauty of the night.

"It's nice, when all the lights aren't on. You can see so many stars, especially out towards the desert and the jungle."

"Yeah, that's probably my favorite part of the holidays. We actually turn off the lights at night, so you can actually see past the attractions."

Amber sighed as she stared at the stars, thinking about the day. "Hey, Brock, thanks for the save back there. I meant to thank you earlier, but it was so chaotic when we got back. I still need to thank Bea and Rosa, too."

"You probably don't need to worry about it with them," Brock said politely, "And you definitely don't need to worry about it with me. I was just a concerned onlooker, really."

"Yes, but I don't remember the last time someone helped me through a panic attack, so seriously, thank you."

Brock looked at the firebreather with concern. "You really haven't had a super great life, have you?" Amber huffed.

"You heard my story back there. Homeless since I was fourteen, remember?"

"Right." the two kept going, the silence now not quite as comfortable. When they started to get close to the gates of the maintenance area, Brock asked the question that had been on his mind since Amber had told her story. "Are you okay? Housing wise, I mean. I know the Performer trio doesn't really have a house of their own, since Primo mostly stays with Shelly or Rosa-"

"I know he and Rosa are dating, but Shelly?"

"Cousins."

"Oh. got it."

"Anywho, Primo usually stays with one of them, and Poco is always at the mortuary, so I just wanted to make sure you were good."

"Yeah, I'm all good. Mr. P lets me bunk at the Hotel. Thanks for asking, though. And thanks for letting me know that Primo and Poco have a place to stay. I was kind of concerned about that, since we never talk about it." Brock stared at the girl next to him. The kind, beautiful girl who was still more concerned about others' well-being than her own, even though she didn't have a place to live. Brock looked at Amber and made a decision.

"Come home with me," he blurted. Amber choked on her breath and started coughing, which was when Brock realized what he just said. " Oh, dear God I am so sorry. I did not mean it like that. I meant that you could stay at the arcade tonight! We have extra rooms in our little apartment thing and Christ I am such a sleaze-"

"Brock, It's fine. You just surprised me, that's all. So, we're heading to the arcade?"

"Yep." After a few minutes, Brock spoke again. "So, dinner was pretty good tonight."

"Yeah, Bull made the turkey, right? He's a really good cook," Amber agreed.

"Well, he is a chef. Hey, I know of some other places with pretty good food, if you wanted to check them out," He mentioned offhandedly, trying to stay as casual as possible.

"Brock, did you just ask me out on a date?"

"Maybe, " He replied, dragging the word out. Amber snorted. "So is that a yes?"

"I would love to go out with you, Brock. But are you sure you want to go out with me? " she asked.

"Amber, you are the all around coolest girl I have ever met. There is no one here I would rather go out with. You're amazing! don't sell yourself short."

"Brock, I'm-" she pulled a small ember out of her hair and smothered it in her hands- "I'm a firebug. You know that. I'm dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

Brock grabbed Amber's hands and smiled. "Amber, I eat danger for breakfast. Literally! I have Gem Grab at quarter to eight tomorrow." Amber gave a breathy laugh. "Point is, I don't care how dangerous you are. I stare danger in the face and keep dancing, day after day. Go out with me. Be my girlfriend. Please." Amber smiled, looked Brock in the eyes, and nodded. There were tears dripping down her face as Brock pulled her in for a kiss.

It wasn't full of passionate fire, like they say in the books, or slow and tender, like the star-crossed lovers say when they think nothing in the world can harm them. The kiss was a quick pressing together of lips, but it was full of sorrow, of outrage at a world ignorant to their struggles. It was hopeful. It was a simple _I am here_ for both parties, even if it only lasted a moment.

When they parted, they weren't changed forever. They were simply two people who had found solace in one another.

**Spike protection squad**

**12:57 a.m.**

**brocketman:** just so nobody asks questions, me and amber are a thing now

_brocketman sent one image (attached is a selfie Brock took. Amber is laying on his chest, wearing one of his t-shirts.)_

**youngscrappynhungry:** Amber and I. And congratulations!

**punqueen(b):** WHAT

**punGODESS:** GODDAMMIT BROCK SINCE WHEN ARE YOU SMART

**stronk:** ladies, i believe you both owe me forty pounds

**brocketman:** wait wut

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, you guys, this story wrote itself. And it would NOT SHUT UP. I almost doubled the length of my next longest story. Which would be Traitor in our Midst, and I think the word count for that one includes the author's note/ trigger warning on , so, I probably did double it. Anywho, I hope you guys liked this one! I was projecting onto Amber a little bit, so it was actually kind of therapeutic to write. And I just straight up got possessed during the romantic bit. I never write romance. Let me know how I did! Piper chapter one should be out soon! Until then, as always, thank you, please keep reading, and goodnight!


End file.
